La Garonne

There might not be (m)any Neolithic remains round here, or wild places unmarred by urban development, but there are some things that we can’t destroy, like the reflection of clouds in still water.

The river looked so placid this morning I had to try and photograph that stillness.





The earth turns,

The stars wheel,

The universe expands into infinity,

While across the still face of the river,

Clouds float in a silvery sky,

And in the tree,

The blackbird sings,

Though the earth dies,

And all the stars fall.


We were supposed to get a tropical storm. Thankfully only the fringe touched Bordeaux, but the sky was tremendous.

The tide of the sky ebbs,

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And the great ocean sky rolls

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Into the dark of night,

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Leaving the ribs of the day,

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Pale ripples of cloud,

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Stretched across the blue shores

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Of eternity.

The seller of dreams

Poem inspired by twitter friend and muse, Luigi La Ragione.
Painting by Caspar David Friedrich

XKH141318 Drifting Clouds (oil on canvas); by Friedrich, Caspar David (1774-1840); 18.3x24.5 cm; Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Germany; German, out of copyright

You sold me dreams of smoke without fire,
The clouds you rode dissolved in rain,
The blue you painted across the sky,
Torn and rent let through the night.
You poured me an ocean of restless waves,
That rolled over shadows of jagged rocks.
The rainbow smiles were for the others,
The promises made were words in the wind.
You wrote your heart in ripples of water,
And walked away in the cold light of the stars.